Up the Rungs

Grabbed onto the lowest rung of the wooden dining chair and gave it a solid yank... yeah. Sturdy as a tree trunk. I kicked my feet off the floorboards, hauled my belly over the smooth timber, and hung there for a second just swaying. Next bar looked a mile high. Reached up with both fuzzy paws, hooked my arms over the slick varnish, and shimmied straight up... pull, kick, heave. Scraped my middle right across the wooden edge and belly-flopped flat onto the wide leather seat. Puffed out a quiet breath into the cool cushion. Looking down at the rug from all the way up here... ha. Solid climb.@